


The Hunter

by bluebellsandcocklesshells



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Human!Castiel - Freeform, Hunter!Castiel, M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 05:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6739894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebellsandcocklesshells/pseuds/bluebellsandcocklesshells





	The Hunter

Dean and Sam walked into the shady bar where the victim of their latest case was last seen alive.  Dean tugged on his suit collar, hating wearing the damn things, as Sam held open the door for them.  Inside they were assaulted by cigarette and cigar smoke.  This place obviously didn’t abide by the state law banning smoking from all public buildings.  It was dimly lit, for which Dean was grateful because he was certain he didn’t want to be able to see whatever it was on the floor that was making sticking sounds as they walked on it.

Sam glanced at Dean and then made a slight movement with his chin toward the patrons around them.  Perhaps they were stereotyping, but Sam was right to silently ask him if they should be flashing their FBI badges amongst the group of rough looking men and women.  Dean shrugged back.  It was late, he was pissed that supernatural activity had been increasing in recent months, and he wanted out of the suit.  He wanted to take the short cut to asking questions.

They approached the bartender who looked like he would just as soon piss in a beer mug as serve them actual drinks.  Dean gave him a pleasant smile.

“Evening.”

“I think you gentlemen are lost.”

“I don’t think we are.”

Dean and Sam flashed their badges.  The bartender rolled his eyes and groaned softly.

“Another one?  Don’t you people talk to each other?  Look, I’ve already answered a fuck ton of questions today, and I’m not answering any more.  I saw the guy in here last Friday night.  He left with a woman who could have been a pro, but I don’t know.  And that’s all I know.  Now either you make a purchase at my fine, upstanding establishment, or Meaty will show you out.

Sam and Dean turned to look in the direction the bartender was directing his gaze.  They both straightened up immediately and gave Meaty nice smiles and waves.  They turned back to the bartender.

“Uh, thank you for your time.  It’s much appreciated.  We’ll leave now.”

The bartender glowered at them and Sam and Dean scooted out of the bar as fast possible.  Once outside, Dean let out a nervous laugh.

“Holy fuck, did you see that guy?”

“I’ve never seen anything human that big before,” Sam replied, opening the Impala’s passenger side door.

“Maybe he’s not human,” Dean said once he was seated in the driver’s seat.  “Maybe the bartender is covering for him.”

“Maybe.  But what about the other FBI agent?  You think he’s legit or a hunter?”

Dean started the car and began the short drive to the cheap motel they’d found a few miles up the highway.

“Well, the article we found said ‘local authorities’ were stumped.  Didn’t mention any feds.  We can search online for updates.  We should also call Bobby and see if he already dispatched somebody out here.  Could clear that mystery right up.”

Sam pulled out his phone and called their surrogate father, grateful for the excuse to check in on the man since his run in with a specter had gone south a couple weeks back.

“Hey, Bobby, it’s Sam.”  He made a face.  “Winchester.”  Dean glanced at him with amusement.  “Did you really not know it was me?”  Dean shook his head, already knowing Bobby was fucking with him.  “Yeah, yeah, you’re hilarious.  How are you doing?”

Sam listened a moment, rolled his eyes and made a face at Dean.  Dean just shrugged.  Sam should know better than to baby Bobby.

“Alright, fine.  I’m an ‘idjit’ and you don’t need me ‘mother hen-ing’ you.”

“Isn’t that a sex position you need, like, five people for?” Dean asked.

Sam punched him on the arm and Dean cackled.

“Anyway, the reason I’m calling is because we’re in Cumberland, Maryland following up on a case where a guy was disemboweled—and the bowels are gone.  Taken for a ritual or eaten or whatever.  But it’s unlikely a human decided to pack up some guts after a kill.  Anyway.  We were going to question some locals, but they said they’d already spoken with an FBI agent.  So we were wondering if you’d already sent somebody out here to handle it.”

Sam went quiet.  Then he glanced at Dean.  “He’s checking his records.”

“His records?  You mean his spiral notebook from eighth grade?”

“ _I heard that!_ ” came a tinny, ornery shout from the phone.

Dean smirked as Sam rubbed his ear to dispel the annoying buzzing brought on by Bobby’s shout.

“Wait, say again, Bobby?  No one within two hundred miles of us.  Okay.  Yeah, could be legit.  We’ll track him down and find out if he’s new to the community.  Okay, thanks.  What?  A Ye’iitsoh?  What’s that?  Bobby.  We’re in Maryland.  The Navajo are native to the southwest.  Yes, I suppose a ‘Big Giant’ could travel large distances fairly easily.  Okay, send me the links and I’ll read them when we get to the motel.  Thanks for the help.  Bye.”

“What big giant?”  Dean asked as soon as the phone was away from Sam’s ear.

“Some Navajo legend.  He eats people, but not specifically bowels.  Besides, I feel like people would have noticed a giant.”

“Maybe a _giant_ giant.  But what if the translation of that word isn’t right?  What if they were just talking about like Andre the Giant giant and not Jolly Green?”

Sam shrugged, and then yawned.  “I guess.”

“I mean, Meaty was pretty substantial.”

“Really, Dean?  We’re going with the giant bouncer ate them theory?”

“Like we haven’t dealt with weirder.”

Sam conceded the point, and yawned again.  “Well, whatever this is, it’s got to wait until tomorrow.  I’m not sure I’m going to make it to the bed.”

“Sam, it’s barely after ten.”

“Yeah, and I was up this morning driving while you snoozed for seven hours, Mr. I-only-need-four-hours-and-I’m-good-to-go.”

Dean tsked at him.  “So cranky when you miss your afternoon nap.  Alright, well you can go to sleep, and I will, uh, question some more locals at different watering holes.”

Sam shot him a look.  “You could go over Bobby’s research.”

“I would but I’m not allowed to touch somebody’s laptop.”

“It takes seven minutes to start up now because of all your porn viruses!”

“Like at least two of those minutes aren’t from your own porn misadventures.”

“I don’t look at porn on my computer!”

They started a battle with their hands to hit the other in the head.  Dean was holding his own for only being able to use one hand because Sam the Cheater was using two.

“Dean, look out!”

Dean looked forward and saw a guy jogging along the shoulder.  He swerved left to avoid hitting him, the tires squealing loudly and startled the jogger.  The guy glared at them as Dean made a hard right turn into the parking lot for the Shaggy Black Bear Motel.  The Impala screeched to a halt in a parking spot away from the front office and two spots away from some god-awful tan Continental pimp ride.

The jogger turned into the entrance for the motel, and slowed to a walk as he crossed the parking lot.  He gave another hard glare to Dean as he was getting out of the car.  The guy was tall with dark hair and a decently built body.  Clearly a dick though.  Guy should know not to jog on the shoulders of major roads at night and potentially endanger beautiful, classic cars.  He gave the guy a nod and a wink, and in response he got rolled eyes as the man disappeared behind one of the worn doors along the front of the motel.

Dean and Sam walked around the corner to enter their room which had windows facing two directions.  Dean could still see his baby in the front lot, so he was content to leave her there under the weak street lamp for what little theft deterrent that might provide.

Sam stripped down to his boxers in record time and flopped onto his bed.  He barely got part of his body under the covers before he looked like he was completely out for the count.  Dean changed into a Henley and a dark pair of jeans (“date” clothes), and gave his teeth a quick scrub.

“Sam?” Dean asked softly as he gathered his wallet, keys, two knives, his smallest gun, a lock pick tool kit, and a pair of handcuffs (potentially useful for a date or a monster).  “Sam?”

He got no response.  He walked over to Sam’s bed and gently nudged his limbs until he woke up just enough to pull himself completely onto the bed, and then he was out again.  Dean pulled the covers up around him and just barely stopped himself from stroking Sammy’s hair back from his face.  They weren’t kids anymore after all.

With one final look to make sure Sam was settled, Dean left the motel room and walked the quarter mile down the road to the bar he’d seen earlier.  Inside it was a little more just-passing-through-stranger friendly than the one he and Sam had visited earlier.  There were a couple of old pool tables, and neon signs hanging from every wall.  Most of the tables were occupied, leaving the bar strangely unpopulated but for two or three people.  Dean hopped up onto a bar stool and signaled the keep.

“Whiskey, neat,” Dean ordered.  “Best you got.  And make it a double.”

The bartender poured him his drink and took his (well, Frank Howards’) credit card to start a tab.  Dean took a decent sip and savored the surprisingly high quality liquor.  Not every bar in the boonies had a top shelf.

“Ah, that explains it.”

Dean glanced to his right and saw jogger guy sitting two stools down the bar, nursing a dark beer in a pilsner glass.  His hair was damp, and Dean hoped it was because he’d showered and not just gone to the bar still dripping with sweat.

“What explains what?”

“Were you drunk when you nearly ran me over earlier?”

“Dude, you were jogging practically in the street along a road with no streetlights in the dark.  You have no one but yourself to blame for that.”

“I think I’ve got the driver of the ugly black car that almost hit me to blame for that.”

“Careful, pal.  That’s my girl you’re talking about.”

“Quite frankly I think you can do better.”

“That’s because you don’t know jack shit about cars.”

The man smiled at that.  “That’s actually true.”

The scowl was knocked from Dean’s features.  He looked back at his drink because he didn’t want to start smiling at guys at a bar.  Though there was a woeful lack of female companionship in the bar as far as Dean could tell.

“You just passing through?” the guy asked.

Dean looked over him, the beginnings of his “fuck off” look on his face.  He didn’t want to make small talk with guys at bars either.  Though he supposed he could do a little information digging.  He’d told Sam he would.

“Nah.  Here investigating a case.”

The man’s eyebrows shot up.  “You a cop?”

“Fed.”

The guy bobbed his head and licked his lips.  “Really.  Interesting.  Well, uh, good luck.  It was nice talking to you, but I gotta get going.”

Dean frowned, confused.  Why had the guy engaged him in the first place if he was just going to bail?  Of course he’d decided to leave after learning Dean was a “Fed.”  Probably a drug dealer or some other lowlife scumbag.  Dean considered giving the guy a good scare, but he still had some whiskey to finish.

As the guy leaned across the counter to hand the bartender a wad of bills, his shirt rode up, revealing a strip of tanned skinned and a tattoo on his hip.  Dean cursed softly and finished off his drink in one swallow.

“Can you close me out?” he called to the bartender and slid off his stool.  He stepped close to the guy before he could escape and put a hand to his hip discreetly, touching the tattoo with his fingertips.  “I think we should talk,” he murmured quietly.

The guy looked at him with a quirky tilt of his head, and then gave a small shrug.  “Yeah, sure, why not?”

Dean collected his credit card and followed the guy out of the bar.  They walked around to the side of the building facing away from the highway.  It was dark as the meager light from the front of the building barely spilled around the corner.  There was a single, dim bulb hanging high above what looked like a store bought generator.  Thy guy led them over to this dingy pool of light.  Dean watched his body language very carefully; he didn’t see any movements that indicated he was anxious or about to reach for a weapon or to attack.

Which was why he was caught off guard when the guy fisted his hands in his shirt and shoved him up against the wall just beside the generator.

Holy shit.  The guy was kissing him.  He, Dean Winchester, was getting kissed by a dude.

Holy shit.  The guy was good.

Holy fuck he was pressing right up against him.

Holy crap on a cracker this needed to stop.

Everything that is unholy, the guy’s tongue was hot and wet and persistent and Dean parted his lips more to stop the man from continuing to lick his lips than to let him in.  But in he went and Holy Mother of God that felt fucking awesome.

_Holy shit._  Were his hands on this guy’s ass?!

Dean pulled his hands back enough to give those firm round cheeks a slap-grab.  He gripped them tight and pulled the guy closer.

“Fuck, your ass is amazing,” Dean managed to get out before the man’s tongue was back in his mouth.

Dean probably could have (and would have) gone on kissing him until the guy decided he was through, but then they shifted and Dean felt the guy’s erection—rub against his erection.  He immediately pushed back on the guy’s shoulders and broke the kiss.  The man looked confused for a moment, and then tried to lean back in to resume kissing (and Dean was sorely tempted to let him and what the fuck?), but Dean pushed back again and separated them.

“Um,” Dean licked his lips and swallowed.  “Um, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.  That’s—not what I meant when I said we needed to talk.”

“Oh.”  The guy stepped back, looking a little embarrassed.  “Then, uh, why did you, you know, put your hand on my hip and stroke my skin?”

_Duh, Dean Winchester._  Dean blushed, realizing now how that must have come off to the guy.  And everyone in the bar.

“Uh, I saw your tattoo.”

The guy looked confused and pulled up his shirt over his left hip and looked at the tattoo of a little bee alighting onto a blue flower.  He looked back up.

“Still not seeing how that means a little private fun isn’t what you meant.”

Dean repressed both a smile and an eye roll (because really what grown ass man had a bumble bee tattooed onto his body?) and indicated the man’s other hip.

“That tattoo.”

The man raised the other side of his shirt up and brushed a thumb over the anti-possession symbol.

“Ah.”  He looked up.  “You’re not a fed; you’re a hunter.”

“And so are you.  And I’m guessing the same case brought us here.”

The guy sighed.  “Yeah.  Well that’s a disappointment.”

“Why?”

The guy gave him a smirk.  “Because not only am I still sober, but now I’m horny too.”

“Oh.  Oh!  Sorry.  We can go back in and drink.  Share theories.”

“Theories about what?”

“What’s doing the killing.”

“Oh.  It’s a Ye’iitsoh.  It’s hanging out at a bar a few miles down the highway.  They’re sluggish and weakened in the daylight.  I was going to go take him out in the morning.”

“Oh, right.  The, uh, Navajo giant.  Thingie.”

The man smiled.  “That a technical term?”

“Shut up.  Who’s even heard of a Y’e-Yeah-Y—”

“Ye’iitsoh.”

“That, anyway?”

“Well I have.  And apparently somehow so have you.”

“We got a guy.”

“I see.”

“Are you part of the hunter community?  Bobby said there wasn’t anyone out this way.”

The man shrugged a shoulder.  “Didn’t know there was a community of us, and I don’t know any Bobby.”

“You’d like him.  He’s good people.”

“Good to know.”  The guy looked him up and down again.  “So, now that we’ve taken care of the ‘what is the big nasty stalking this little town’ conversation, you wanna go back to the motel and, uh—”

The guy made a few vague motions with his hands but it was enough for Dean to understand his meaning.  He took a step back and stuttered through his response.

“No, no, sorry.  I don’t, you know—I mean you’re a very attractive guy, don’t get me wrong, but uh, I don’t, you know, swing—” here he gave a small gesture like he was swinging a bat, “that way.”

The guy’s eyes traveled to Dean’s crotch, which was probably still bulging a little from the half-chubby that just wouldn’t go away.

“Unh-huh.  Well, you don’t have to swing _that_ way, but I can promise you that if you swing _my_ way…you won’t regret it.”

Dean ducked his head like he was watching an episode of Dr. Sexy.  “Maybe not.”  (The hell?!)  “But, uh, it’s not going to happen tonight, buddy.”

“Some other time then.”

“Yeah…” Dean trailed off not sure how to answer that without agreeing to have sex with the guy at their next meeting.  “So, uh, you want to exchange contact info?  Just so we can, like, share information if we need to, or provide backup.”

“Sure.  I hear hunting in pairs is usually the smart thing.”

“Ah, well, I can’t, like, be your partner, I got a brother.  He’s at the motel.  Sleeping in our room.  So.  Our room is occupied.”

A smile slid up one side of the guy’s face.  “So you’re saying if we wanted to talk some more, we should go to my room.”

“Not because of like, privacy,” Dean laughed uneasily.  “But, he’s sleeping.  Don’t wanna wake him up.”

“Right.”

“You need help with the giant thingie tomorrow?”

“Probably not, but backup couldn’t hurt.”

“Okay.  So.  Info.  Right.  I’m Dean.  Winchester.  I’m a hunter.”

The man nodded.  “Castiel.”

He held out a hand and Dean shook it.  Their hands remained joined as they made eye contact.

“I’m a hunter too, Dean.”

Dean swallowed as he realized Castiel had meant that in more ways than one.

“So, do you want to go back to the motel to discuss how one kills a Ye’iitsoh?”

Dean hesitated.

“My room, of course.  Because your brother is sleeping.”

“Right.  Sammy’s sleeping.  You know, we’ve never dealt with one of these before.  I should probably.  Learn about it.”

“It’s always good to explore new things,” Castiel said.

“Yeah,” Dean said hoarsely, about 15% certain he was going to get his first taste of cock tonight.

Castiel smiled and tilted his head in the direction of the motel as he turned and started walking.  Dean followed the hunter into the darkness.


End file.
